Author: Jodi Meadows

“What are those things?” Splintering wood pierced my hands as I hurled debris out of the way.

“Dragons.” She jumped back as the wheels collapsed, and the wagon dropped all the way to the ground. Shouts came from within. “They’re dragons.”

Boards and debris that dripped acid jammed the door to the wagon, keeping it from fully opening. No matter how I pulled on the door, it refused to open more than a handspan. I couldn’t remove the debris, and there wasn’t time to wait for the acid to eat away the wood and loosen everything.

I peered into the dark wagon. “Stef! Can you push from inside?”

Whit’s face appeared in the gap instead. “Stef is hurt. His leg.”

I checked around, but Fayden wasn’t back, and the dragons were prowling around the edges of camp, huge and deadly guards.

This was up to me.

“Do you see my flute?” I glanced upward; the hole growing from the acid was larger now. Enough to let firelight shine in?

Whit scrambled around the wagon for a moment. “Yes, I found it.”

“Quickly, put it together. We’ll use it as a lever.”

The seconds seemed so long, and I could hear her grunts of frustration from within; she’d never put together my flute before. I should have had her pass it out to me.

But finally, the metal head joint appeared and I fumbled until I found a position with good leverage. “Orrin, help them out. I’ll hold this open.” I hoped.

Fayden still wasn’t back. He’d be better at this—he was stronger—but Stef was my best friend, and I couldn’t let him die because of my fear. Not after everything else that had happened.

I braced myself against the wagon and pulled on the flute, hard enough to widen the gap.

“More!” Orrin had her shoulders in, reaching for Stef or Whit, but the sisters were small; Stef needed more room to escape.

I rearranged my grip, one hand closing over a few keys. Metal pierced my palm, but the strain in my muscles hurt worse. My arms trembled as I forced the gap open wider. “Hurry.” But the word was just a huff of air, lost beneath the crackling blaze in the center of camp, and the thump of dragons landing. My vision went fluttery around the edges until I could only dimly see Orrin helping Stef through the hole.

He was taking forever. I couldn’t hold the gap open much longer, and soon the acid would eat away the rest of the wagon. They’d be crushed—or trapped again—if they didn’t hurry.

Another pair of hands closed around the flute, between mine. Fayden took the weight of leverage and grunted, “Good job. Now help Stef.”

Blinking to clear my vision, I released the flute a little at a time until Fayden had everything. Fire surged through my palm and blood dripped from where the keys had pierced my skin. I staggered over to Stef, who was limping from the wagon. Orrin released him and turned back for her sister.

“What happened?” I could hardly lift my arms to support Stef, but I forced myself to take as much of his weight as I could; the way he favored his left leg hinted that something was very wrong.

“It’s broken. A shelf fell on me when the wagon wheel collapsed.” He checked over his shoulder. “They’re both out now. Where are we going?”

I scanned the area, but it was so hard to see anything with the smoke and chaos. “I think people are heading into the woods.” Both of us gasping, I guided him away from the collapsing structure. “Can you make it?”

“I think so.” Stef coughed and reached for his aunts as they came to help support him.

I didn’t see dragons toward the trees where people were running. The beasts had once again taken to the sky—most of them anyway—and were circling as though searching for escapees. As I watched, one of the dragons spat a glob of acid on the far side of the camp; new screams erupted.

“We have to hurry. Where’s Fayden?”

“Here.” He appeared at my side and handed me the ruined flute; keys had been stripped off, while the tube was bent and beyond repair. Congealing blood dripped off the metal. “Sorry about that.”

“Using it was my idea. I knew what would happen.” I waved the flute toward the woods. “We’re going there.”

Fayden turned to Whit and Orrin. “Go ahead. We’ll get Stef there as quickly as we can. Find someone who can set his leg. Rin, maybe.”

Orrin gave a terse nod, while Whit touched Stef’s shoulder. “No stopping to build a catapult or any of your usual nonsense.”

“I’ll be good.” Stef flashed a pained smile.

When the sisters took off toward the forest, Fayden grabbed Stef’s other side, and the two of us half carried him through the rubble-strewn camp. I kept the flute in my belt; I couldn’t bring myself to throw it away just yet.

“So, dragons.” Fayden shook his head. “Yet another thing that wants to kill us.”

Stef nodded. “My aunts think we stumbled into their territory. Their hunting grounds, maybe. I guess they didn’t hear that Meuric was planning on us living here.”

“Maybe they did and that’s the problem.” I staggered when my knee gave under the strain of Stef’s additional weight, but I caught myself before we fell. “We’re almost there,” I rasped. A lie. Whit and Orrin, who’d been running, were just now reaching the tree line. We weren’t halfway there.

But others were. Ahead, hundreds of people fled into the woods—toward safety, I hoped. Others came from behind us, burned and bruised, most limping or pressing their hands against bleeding injuries.

And overhead, the dragons seemed to be leaving. Maybe this was a warning, but up they flew, north again until they were beyond the wall and tower.

We were safe. I hoped. Without the supplies we’d packed in our burning wagons, we’d probably all die, but if the dragons were leaving, we had a chance.

“Watch out!” Someone screamed from the trees, just as a heavy thud behind me made the earth jump. Stef, Fayden, and I all went sprawling facedown to the ground.

I scrambled to my feet and spun around to face a dragon—the same one that had looked at me earlier, though I couldn’t tell how I knew. There was just something about those blue eyes, deeper than the sky.

And now it was looking at me again, as though it saw through to my soul, and it hated me.

The familiar rooting feeling began within me, that paralyzing fear that had kept me from acting when my mother’s life was at stake, or when the centaurs attacked the caravan. I couldn’t let that happen again.

I shook myself free of the terror and pivoted to help Stef to his feet. “Come on,” I rasped. “Start limping.”

Fayden flashed a proud grin as we worked together to help Stef, but when I glanced over my shoulder, the dragon’s mouth had opened, revealing those incredible teeth and the faint glow of green from within.

It was going to spit acid.

It was going to kill us.

“Get Stef to safety.” I left Stef’s side and ran toward the dragon. A feral cry tore from my throat as I drew my ruined flute.

“Sam!” Stef cried.

“Let’s go!”

The dragon snarled, revealing the acid glowing on its tongue.

I hefted my flute high and thrust it into the beast’s nostril. It roared, and acid spilled from its mouth as I darted away.

It hadn’t had time to aim. It hadn’t been able to spit the volley of acid on Fayden and Stef.

I didn’t have time to check on them, though. I’d taken only two steps to the side of the growing pool of acid when I hit the ground, jarring my shoulder and elbow. My head struck a rock and the world blurred.

Thunder ripped as the dragon took to the sky.

I rolled and clambered to my feet, my whole body shaking with adrenaline. I’d done it. I’d saved them and sent the dragon away.

“Fayden! Stef!” The names ripped from my throat, lost beneath the rush and wind of the dragon’s wings flapping. Droplets of acid sprayed from the pool, stinging where they touched my face.

Desperately, I swiped my sleeves over my skin, but the burning only spread. My eyes and face itched as I shucked off my jacket; the reek or burned wool seared my nose.

“Fayden?” I blinked through the tears that obscured my vision.

There, beyond the pool of glowing green. Stef was pushing himself up to sit. Behind him, Fayden was on the ground, motionless. Acid covered his legs, and had splashed all across his back. It was too shadowy to see what kind of damage the acid had done already, but he wasn’t moving.

My head spun as I rushed for them. The reek of the acid made my thoughts reel and forced me to breathe shallowly.

Groaning, Stef scooted away from the acid, dragging his broken foot behind him. Over and over, he swore as he grabbed for his boot and began untying it.

Stef was alive.

But Fayden? His legs were covered in green.

I dropped next to my brother’s head, just shy of the pool of acid. He didn’t move—didn’t even seem to realize I was there. “Fayden?” Panic leeched through me as I grabbed his shoulders and dragged him away from the green goo.

His legs did not come with him.

I gagged and wanted to look away, but even as I started to turn my head, the whites of his eyes flashed in the wan light.

“Sam.” His voice was nothing more than a breath; I had to lean close to hear him. “Help Stef. Be brave.”

“I—”

But the life faded from his eyes, and I didn’t know what I’d been about to say anyway. My chest ached and I couldn’t breathe. Dimly, over the roaring in my ears, I heard Stef screaming for me to look up.

A thunderclap overhead drew my gaze. It was the dragon, circling around to attack again.

Blind with tears and horror, I released my brother’s shoulders and grabbed Stef.

I hauled him up and dragged him several steps, him gasping and sobbing every second of it. A glob of acid exploded behind us, and pinpricks of burning dotted the back of my head and neck. With my bleeding hands and still-shaking arms, I adjusted my grip on Stef and dragged him toward the forest.

“Where’s Fayden?” His voice was rough with pain and fear as we entered the shelter of the forest and fell into his aunts’ arms. “What happened to Fayden?”

The words choked me. “My brother is dead.”

12

MY MOTHER.

My father.

And now my brother.

Everyone was gone.

Numb. That was what I was.

I could hardly feel the hands that grabbed me, or hear the voices that shouted my name. I was limp as people tugged off my shirt and dragged me toward the lake to dunk me underwater and wash away the acid. My bleeding hand was cleaned and bound, but I didn’t remember by whom.

Stef was there, his broken leg set and braced, and he was given a smooth branch to use as a crutch. Together we approached the decimated camp as firelight exposed the true horror of the battle.

Smoke drifted over the ruins of our camp. Everything was blackened, almost unrecognizable. Fire and acid had burned through the wagons completely; there would be nothing useful scavenged from the wreckage.

Slowly, acid ate away at everything. There’d be nothing left of this battle by morning.

I stood at the edge of the forest, near where Stef’s aunts had found us, and watched as people emerged from the woods, just a few at a time. They wore dazed expressions, looking as lost as I felt.

People formed small groups, huddled together with the same desperation our ancestors must have felt after the Cataclysm. This was our Cataclysm, wrought by dragons.

We’d brought everything we owned here, and the Council had burned everything we’d left behind. That left us here in a strange, cold land, with fewer people, and defenseless against our enemies.

There were more of us than I expected, though. Thousands—tens and hundreds of thousands—had escaped what should have been a massacre.